Someone Like You
by CeruleanTurtle
Summary: I was listening to 'Someone Like You' by Adele, and I started thinking about John and Sherlock, and then this happened... Spoiler alert for Post-Reichenbach feels.


It had been three years since Sherlock's 'death', and he was finally ready to come back. All the loose ends had been tied up, and although it had taken much longer than he had imagined, it was worth it. For John. And the others, but John's safety was most important.

Sherlock knocked on the door to 221B Baker Street, but it was a hollow sound. After a moment and some rustling inside, a tired-looking Mrs. Hudson opened the door.

"Sher-" Her mouth drops open, and Sherlock grabs her in an embrace before her legs give out.

"Yes, I'm alive. It's alright." Sherlock leads her back inside, rubbing her back as she sobs quietly. "Where's John?" He looks up the stairs, looking at the closed door of his old flat.

"Oh Sherlock." Mrs. Hudson looks at him, pain in her eyes. "I'm sorry, dear." He looks at her, a rare look of confusion on his face. "Come on, let's have a nice cuppa and I'll explain everything." She lays a hand on his arm and leads him into her flat, her eyes gentle and concerned.

Sherlock marches out of 221B after a short cup of tea, tears burning in his eyes. As he pulls his coat tighter around him, a black car pulls up in front of him.

"Do join me, brother." Mycroft's voice drifts from the car, and Sherlock hardly hesitates to open the door and slide in. "Back from the dead, don't you think that's a bit dramatic?" Mycroft raises an eyebrow, his face blank. Sherlock simply looks out the window, trying to hold back the tears. "Sherlock, we really do need to talk about some things."

But Sherlock remains silent, he's in no mood to talk. He stays silent for the remainder of the car ride, which was almost half an hour. Finally he opens his mouth, still not looking his brother in the eyes. "Where are you taking me, Mycroft?"

"You know where."

Of course he does. Sherlock wipes a tear that somehow escaped, ignoring Mycroft's comment. "Why are you taking me there?" His voice barely comes out as a whisper. "I don't want to go there."

"I know you don't, but you two have to talk things over."

"I don't want to talk to him."

"Yes you do."

Sherlock is standing outside John's house, his hands clenched into fists. It's exactly the house John always wanted, with a nice garden and a big yard, there's even a big German Shepard on the porch- the kind of dog John always wanted. Sherlock had never liked dogs, but had agreed to let John get a puppy if-

His breath catches in his throat.

If they ever had children.

Sherlock walks slowly across the big yard, approaching the side of the house to avoid the big dog. Taking a deep breath, he looks in the window, making sure he remains hidden. The scene inside practically knocks his feet out from under him, and he feels more tears running down his face. John's sitting in a big lounge chair, reading the paper while a brown-haired woman massages his shoulders from behind. At John's feet, a young boy with John's sandy hair and big eyes is playing with a toy train, giggling loudly.

Sherlock practically runs back to Mycroft's car, catching the attention of the German Shepard. The dog runs after him, barking, and tackles a sobbing Sherlock to the ground.

"Who's there?" Sherlock freezes at the sound of John's voice. He remembers the last time he heard that voice, on the phone, the day he died. He hears John's footsteps as he runs across the yard to help whoever his dog just tackled, but the running stops a few feet from where Sherlock is sitting.

"No." John's voice is hardly a whisper, and Sherlock can barely meet his eyes.

"John-"

"This isn't possible." The tears are already in John's eyes, and Sherlock can't stand to watch the man he loves cry.

"John, I'm sorry, I had to-"

"You left me, you bastard!" John yells, his voice cracking. "You left me all alone with no explanation!"

"I know. I'm so sorry John." Sherlock stands up, pushing the dog away from him. "John, I-"

"No, don't say it Sherlock." John shakes his head, his face set in hard lines. "You can't do this to me."

"But John, I love-"

"I don't love you!" John's voice is shrill with the pain of his words, his face cracking to show his emotion briefly. Sherlock stumbles backwards, mouth hanging open in shock. "Not anymore. I- I can't." John regains his composure, standing in a very military way that is only one of the things that Sherlock loves so much about him.

"But John-" Sherlock can barely speak, he can barely stand, he feels his world spinning and crashing around him and there's nothing he can do to stop it because it's already over. "Leave her. Please, come back to me." He pleads, knowing it's in vain but he has to try to get John back into his life.

"Sherlock, I can't just leave her! We're married! I have a son, Sherlock!" John shakes his head, rubbing his temples.

After a moment of painful silence, Sherlock raises his eyes to John's. "What did you name him?"

John hesitates for a moment. "Daniel."

Sherlock inhales sharply, the last bits of his heart breaking. That was the name he had picked out for their son. "I should just leave."

He turns to leave, but feels John's hand on his shoulder. "Sherlock…"

"I'm sorry I did this to you. I just thought… If we could see each other again, if you knew I was alive, things could go back to how they used to be." John's hand tightens on his shoulder. "I was wrong, apparently." He almost laughs, because he's never wrong. "I- I'll still love you."

"I know." John's voice is soft, close to his ear, and Sherlock remembers all those times John whispered in his ear, and he cries because it will never happen again.

"Good bye John. I hope you're happy." He doesn't mean it cruelly, because he really does want John to be happy. And as he slides back into Mycroft's car, allowing his big brother to embrace him while he sobs, he wishes he hadn't come back from the dead.


End file.
